the vicar came to pay us a call. The servant told him that we were in the
garden, and he came and found us there. Frank, you have no idea the sort of
face he pulled. What could I say?"

"'I am the vicar of the parish,' he bowed pompously.

"'I'm delighted to see you,' I said, getting up and draping myself carefully,
'you have come just in time to enjoy a perfectly Greek scene. I regret that I
am scarcely fit to receive you, and Bosie there;--and I pointed to Bosie lying
on the grass. The vicar turned his head and saw Bosie's white limbs; the sight
was too much for him; he got very red, gave a gasp and fled from the place.

"I simply sat down in my chair and shrieked with laughter. How he may have
described the scene, what explanation he gave of it, what vile gloss he may have
invented, I don't know and I don't care. I have no doubt he wagged his head and
pursed his lips and looked unutterable things. But really it takes a saint to
suffer such fools gladly."

I could not help smiling when I thought of the vicar's face, but Oscar's tone
was not pleasant.

The change in him had gone further than I had feared. He was now utterly
contemptuous of criticism and would listen to no counsel. He was gross, too,
the rich food and wine seemed to ooze out of him and his manner was defiant,
hard. He was like some great pagan determined to live his own life to the very
fullest, careless of what others might say or think or do. Even the stories
which he wrote about this time show the worst side of his paganism:

"When Jesus was minded to return to Nazareth, Nazareth was so changed that He
no longer recognised His own city. The Nazareth where he had lived was full of